


His Obsession

by Sarasa_pen



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Death, F/M, Fluff, Harry Potter- Freeform, Hogwarts, Malfoy, Murder, Obsession, Pregnancy, Rape, Slytherin, Suicide, The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black, Tom Riddle - Freeform, Violence, abraxas malfoy - Freeform, non-con
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-30
Updated: 2019-09-06
Packaged: 2020-03-29 20:29:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 5
Words: 3,498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19027357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sarasa_pen/pseuds/Sarasa_pen
Summary: "You told me I would be your queen.""And you are.""I thought you meant in the romantic way! I never wanted to be some-some dark queen!"Obsessions, as they usually go, start off seemingly insignificant and harmless. Most obsessions are just that; seemingly insignificant and harmless.But when Lyra Black becomes the object of a certain Dark Lord’s affection, she realises that there’s a fine line between love, obsession, and downright insanity.A girl catches Tom's eye, and he is hellbent on keeping her.





	1. Chapter 1

 Obsessions, as they usually go, start off seemingly insignificant and harmless. Most obsessions are just that; seemingly insignificant and harmless. 

 But there are some dangerous people out there, capable of doing psychotic things. When these people are introduced to obsessions, may God have mercy on the object of said obsession.

 For most people don't seem to realise that obsessions, even the smallest of ones, are dangerous.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tom Riddle makes a discovery; and he can’t seem to get her out of his head.

 Tom Riddle first saw her talking to Abraxas before the Welcoming Feast. She wasn't in their year, that much Tom knew for sure. A prefect badge was pinned onto her shirt, and Tom raised an eyebrow. He must have missed her at the prefects meeting.

 Tom would have had to be blind to call her anything but beautiful. And she was beautiful, with black hair a striking contrast against her pale skin. Hey body was neither overly thin nor curvy, but that was all Tom could deduce from the modest uniform covering her.

 He did notice that there was no ring on her left hand, which surprised him. She was at least 14, 16 at the most, and the chances of her being a mud blood were slim to none considering the way she was speaking with Abraxas. It was surprising that she wasn't married yet, or at least engaged. 

 Tom pushed himself off the column, and made his way into the great hall, ridding his thoughts of her.

~

 Tom inspected his reflection in the mirror. He turned his head one way, and then the other, before his eyes travelled down the rest of his body. There were no outward signs of any sort of illness or spell. Tom was currently in the boy's bathroom, trying to figure out what was wrong with him. There were few problems that Tom's mind could not solve, but this...this was beyond him.

 Enraged, he slammed his fist into the mirror, cracking it and cutting his hand. His chest rose and fell as he breathed, red-rimmed eyes glaring at the sink. There was something... _bubbling_ inside of him. Tom Riddle did  _not_ bubble. Girls bubbled. They laughed and tossed their hair while looking at him when they thought he wasn't paying attention.

 Tom Riddle _did not bubble._

 His mind could examine and dissect, hypothesis and experiment things that others didn't even think to wonder about. He was brilliant. Far more brilliant and better than them. Better than this... this _bubbling_.

 Tom left the bathroom with a scowl, crushing whatever bubbling feelings he had deep inside him, just like all the others.

~

 As he entered the Great Hall, Tom noticed, with no little chagrin, that the bubbling feelings returned the exact moment his eyes landed on a certain Slytherin girl. She was laughing, flicking her hair as she turned to the boy sitting next to her. She was bubbling.

 That was not something Tom Riddle did.

 Yet there was a tiny lump in his throat that he couldn't swallow, a nice, cozy warmth in his chest. And then, quite surprisingly (although completely against Tom's will), Tom found himself in love.

 That was also something Tom Riddle did not do.

~

 He was minding his own business (really), reading his notes on the Cruciatus curse, when he heard a laugh. _Her_ laugh.

 His head snapped up and scanned the common room, stopping only when they landed on her figure. At that exact moment, she looked up, and their eyes met. What happened next had to be a crime, for it rendered Tom unable to breathe.

 That girl had _the audacity to smile._

 Tom looked back down at his notes, trying to ignore how his heart was hammering in his chest.

~

 It was supposed to be a Hogsmede weekend, which meant that everyone was out of the common rooms. Well, everyone except Tom. He retreated into a hidden corner in the common room, scanning over the new book about horcruxes. And he would have been content to stay like that, if not for her deciding to enter the room looking like a drowned cat.

 Wait, no, that was a lie. She looked absolutely nothing like a drowned cat. In fact, she was beautiful. Her clothes were soaked through, leaving absolutely nothing to his imagination, which, he's supposed, was an added bonus.

 She glanced around the common room quickly, before sitting down in front of the fireplace. Tom realised that she couldn't see him. Which meant she thought she was in the common room _alone_. Naturally, Tom kept silent.

 Her deft fingers moved quickly, undoing her braid, fingers trembling slightly from the cold. She quickly shed her cardigan, and Tom's eyes widened as he took in her bare arms. His eyes travelled down, from her chin, to her neck, to the curve of her chest, down further, further, focusing on where her hands were now hiking her skirt up.

 Tom licked his lips.

 She pulled down her wet stockings quickly, exposing her bare legs. Tom's grip around his book tightened, his knuckles becoming white. She looked absolutely ravishing, sitting there like that.

 Struck with the thought that others could walk in at any moment, Tom waved his wand at the portrait hole, a loud bang echoing throughout the dorm. She jumped, chest heaving, before she grabbed her wet clothes and bolted into her dorm room. 

 With a small sigh, Tom leaned his head against the wall, closing his eyes.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tom decides to research his discovery

 "Who was she?"

 Abraxas paused, toast hovering in front of his mouth. "Which _she_ are we talking about?"

 "The girl you were speaking to before the Welcoming Feast. Black hair and blue eyes. About 5'4," Tom replied coolly, picking up a goblet of pumpkin juice.

 Abraxas’ eyebrows raised, and he turned his head to scan the Slytherin table. He pointed to someone, to _her_ , and Tom nodded.

 “Lyra Black,” Abraxas bit into his toast as Tom continued to watch her. “Only daughter and youngest child of my mothers’ cousins, Regulus and Cassiopeia Black.”

 “How old is she?”

 “15. 16 in November.”

 “Is she betrothed?”

 “No-” Abraxas cut himself off, his eyes narrowing dangerously. “What’s it to you?”

 Tom raised an unimpressed eyebrow. “What do you think?”

 “No,” Abraxas shook his head. “Not a bloody chance, Tom, you stay away from her.”

 Tom rolled his eyes, turning back to watch her, to watch _Lyra_.

 Lyra. Pretty name.

 Tom smiled.

-

 It was quite easy to get her class schedule. 

 Fifth year girls were easy to manipulate, and one of her dorm mates willingly copied down Lyra's schedule for him.

 He wasn't stalking her, he just wanted to know where she was and what classes she was taking.

 She started off her day eating eggs and toast with tea, occasionally with some sausages. She would then go to the library for an hour before her Charms classes started. After Charms she had Care For Magical Creatures, and then DADA. She'd then have lunch with her dorm mates. After lunch she had Transfiguration, and then Potions. On Wednesdays and Fridays she would go for Quidditch training for two hours; she played Chaser for Slytherin.

 On days she didn't have Quidditch, she would sit by the Black Lake, under the large oak tree, reading a book. She'd then meet her friends for dinner, and Tom noted she'd always have the Caramel Pudding after. Her rounds were rather late in the evening, two hours after curfew, like his.

 On Hogsmede days, she wore a variety of dark shades, though Tom noticed she always wore something dark green.

 She preferred tea over pumpkin juice. She didn't like shrimp. She had no preference for books, and she could get lost in them for hours. She rubbed at her fingers when she got nervous, and she would chew on her lip when she got lost in thought.

 But no, Tom wasn't stalking her. Not at all.

-

 "I'll see you in the great hall?" Mary smiled at Lyra, waving as she turned away. Lyra turned, only to bump right into a dark haired boy.

 "Pardon me," a smooth voice said, and Lyra's wide blue eyes met dark brown ones. 

 "Sorry," she apologised, as the boy reached out a hand to stabilise her. He flashed her a charming grin, taking a small step back, although he was still in her space.

 "Don't apologise," he replied, eyes captivating hers. "May I inquire where you're heading, and if I could walk you there?"

 Lyra fixed her bag strap, taking a step back. "I'm going to the library, and yes, you may."

 "Let me take that for you," he reached for her bag, fingers brushing her collarbone and he grasped the strap. 

 "There's no need for that-"

 "I insist."

 Tom extended his arm for her to take, and she did, flushing as her hand rested on the crook of his elbow. She looked especially beautiful like that. "I'm Tom, by the way."

 "I know," she said quickly, clearing her throat as he raised an eyebrow before she clarified. "You're head boy."

 "That I am."

 The walked in silence for the rest of the way, and Tom spoke up once the Library doors came in sight. "You play Quidditch don't you?"

 "Hm? Yes, I play as chaser." A pause. "Do you play?"

 "Me? No, I don't enjoy the game."

 "Do you come to watch our matches?" She asked, tilting her head up to meet his eyes as they stopped in front of the library.

 "Not usually, no. Although..." Tom reached up to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. "I might come to watch you."

 Lyra flushed prettily once more, and Tom raised her hand to his lips. "I hope to see you again, Miss Black."

 He turned to go, leaving Lyra standing there.

 It wasn't till months had passed and she was in too deep that Lyra realised she hadn't told him her name.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: I won't be posting very often, but I will make updates. I have major exams this year so the updates may be spaced far apart. Sorry, and I hope you enjoy.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lyra finds out more about the school’s beloved head boy, including his feelings for her.

 Lyra all but forgot about her encounter with the head boy as she found herself lost in some books. Dinner time rolled around far too quickly for her liking, and Lyra dragged herself out of her seat. Her only consolation was the caramel pudding for dessert. 

 

 Lyra didn’t care much for the conversation Dorea was having with Mary; pertaining the Gryffindor Potter boy. Dorea thought he was dreamy. Mary thought he was a great match. Lyra thought that the conversation was rubbish. 

 

 The girls were barely 16.  They still had three years left in school, what did it matter now?

 

 ‘‘Mama and Papa wrote to me earlier this morning. They’ve set an alliance for me with Diggory,” Mary spoke after a moment of silence. Lyra glanced up at her, waiting for her to continue. If her own parents ever pulled a stunt like that, there would be hell to pay. But she supposed that her parents wouldn’t force her to marry, the Blacks had immediate ties to every pureblood family. Well, other than the Malfoy family, but everyone knew Abraxas had his eye on the youngest Nott girl. “He’s alright I suppose. Has a dreary personality, but he’s a rich pureblood.”

 

 “Because that’s all that matters,” Lyra spoke up dryly, making eye contact with Dorea. “As long as he’s rich and a pureblood.”

 

 “Keep up with that tone, and you won’t have a ring on your finger by school end,” Mary warned playfully, pointing a breadstick at her. 

 

 “Oh yeah? Well it’s a good thing I don’t want a ring on my finger,” Lyra retorted, flicking some water in Mary’s direction. Mary grinned, glancing up at Lyra before she froze. 

 

 “And why ever not, Miss Black?’’

 

 Lyra turned in her seat to see the headboy, his intense gaze fixed on her. She blinked, preparing her answer when Abraxas came marching up towards them. 

 

 “Cousin dearest,” he greeted, nodding his head at Lyra as he grabbed Riddle’s arm. “Ignore this one.”

 

 Abraxas began to pull Tom away when he retaliated, planting his feet firmly into the ground and pulling Abraxas firmly back. 

 

 “If you help me, I’ll help you with the lovely Miss Nott you admire,” Tom proposed, voice low. Abraxas faltered, eyes flickering to the other end of the Slytherin table, focusing on a giggling sixth year with platinum blonde hair. 

 

 “Tick tock,” Tom reminded, and Abraxas grit his teeth. He was sure his little cousin could hold her own. Couldn’t she?

 

 “On second thought,” Abraxas called loudly, pushing Tom in the opposite direction before settling in the seat beside his cousin. “Why don’t you want to get married?”

 

 Lyra raised an unamused eyebrow. “I think you should focus on your own matrimonial life, Abraxas, and give your father the heirs he so desperately desires, before you come poking into mine.”

 

 “Well you’re nearly 16 now,” Abraxas said meaningfully as Tom sat on the other end of the Slytherin table. 

 

 “And?”

 

 “And all Black women have been either engaged or married when they’re 16,” Abraxas reached for her pudding, and she smacked his hand. 

 

 “As much as I hate to admit it,” Lyra sighed, turning back to her friends. 

 

 “What is it?” Dorea inquired, reaching out to touch Lyra’s hand. Lyra took a spoonful of pudding before continuing. “Mama did mention that she wanted me to find a beau, and by the Christmas Ball.”

 

 “But that’s in a month!”

 

 “To find a beau in a month?”

 

 “And a decent one too?”

 

 “Nearly impossible!”

 

 “What about Tom?” Abraxas cut into the conversation, halting the other girls ranting. 

 

 “And what about Tom?” Lyra replied, keeping her eyes on the table. She didn’t know anything about him, and she barely had one conversation with him. 

 

 “Well, he is Head boy.”

 

 Dorea snorted. “So? That doesn’t make a difference knowing her parents.”

 

 “He’s the last living descendant of Salazar Slytherin,” Abraxas added as an afterthought, casually picking up a goblet. Mary choked on her pumpkin juice, Dorea nearly swallowed her spoon, and Lyra felt her heart beating so much faster.

 

 “That doesn’t mean anything,” Dorea recovered the first, setting her spoon down. “That won’t make a difference if he doesn’t want to marry her. He has no familial obligations. He could marry anyone he wanted, given his bloodline, so there isn’t much of a point to extend a proposal first.”

 

 “I doubt you would need to extend a proposal, dear cousin,” Abraxas smirked. “It seems that our head boy is holding a torch for you.”

 

 Lyra didn’t respond, instead choosing to let her eyes sweep over the Slytherin table, searching out a particular dark haired boy. 

 

 Except, when Lyra found the object of her thoughts, she discovered that his eyes were already on her. Flushing, Lyra ducked her head, acting seemingly oblivious to the giggles from her friends and Abraxas getting up. 

 

 A minute passed, maybe two, and Lyra willed herself to look up once more. When she met his eyes again, she could not seem to tear her gaze away. A slow smile spread across his handsome face, and despite the feeling that she shouldn’t lead him on, that she shouldn’t engage in such frivolities, that she shouldn’t let her emotions get the best of her, _Lyra smiled back._


	5. Chapter 5

There was a hot feeling bubbling up in Tom’s chest and throat, which had appeared in the exact moment his eyes had landed on Lyra. 

Now, usually when Tom saw Lyra, he was filled with a hot, burning, _desperate_ desire, a desire to keep her and make her his. His eyes would rake appreciatively over her form, lingering on her lips, her chest, the curve of her hips. 

But this feeling was a feeling he was all too familiar with. Anger. 

Tom really seemed to live in anger, almost as film characters did, so lost in the moment and the torment his mind was occupied with. If one paid close attention, they would see the changes in his eyes, then a tension in his muscles, before the inability to think followed shortly after. The rational Tom flew out the window, replaced with a man - if one could even call him that - who had reverted back to his most primitive nature. 

Next to Lyra stood Matthew Nott. Matthew was the poster pureblood son. Rich, handsome, smart, prejudiced against non-purebloods. His family line was one of the sacred 28, and the Blacks would have no objection to strengthening their ties to the Nott family. 

Lyra smiled prettily up at Nott. The glass in Tom’s hand shattered as he rose to his feet. 

“Nott!” He called, silencing half the hall. “Let’s take a walk.”

-

Tom glanced at his watch, his other hand grasping his wand. He stood up straight, walking a few feet over to the withering boy on the ground. Body wracked with so much pain, the boy was rendered speechless, no noises coming from him as he shook. Tom waved his wand lazily, ending the cruciatus curse he had placed.

“Get up Nott, you incarnate insult to the pureblood name,” Tom sneered. “And for Salazar’s sake, stop  _ whimpering _ .”

Shaking as he got to his feet, Nott kept his eyes trained on the floor. 

“I trust that you won’t have any objection to whatever it is I’m about to tell you to do,” Tom said coolly, tucking his wand away.

“Of-of course not, my-my Lord,” Nott got out, barely able to breathe. Nodding once, Tom continued, “Stay away from Lyra Black.”

“Yes sir,” he replied with no hesitaion, no qualms on the matter. 

“Good. Nott, you are a bright fellow, and you know who your loyalty is to. Now,” Tom smirked, sending another chill down Nott’s spine. “Let’s talk about your sister.”

-

“Why didn’t you tell me you were getting married?” Lyra demanded two mornings later, palms pressing into the table. Abraxas froze where he was sitting across her, eyes flickering to Tom. Tom smirked, taking a sip of his tea as he focused on the warmth her body was radiating from beside him. 

 “I didn’t know,” Abraxas replied after a moment, resting his elbows on the table. “Do tell, dear cousin, who am I getting married to?”

Lyra took a seat next to Tom, whom she still hadn’t registered was in fact Tom, and poured herself some tea. “You, dear cousin, are getting married to Cassandra Nott, the day after this Christmas. Your mother sent me an invitation, which was accompanied with this.”

Lyra pushed a letter into Abraxas’ hand, then turning her head in Tom’d direction. Her eyes widened when she realised it was him, and she noted how close they were sitting. 

Abrazas read over the letter, his own smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. 

“Tom!” he called, glancing up from the letter. “What are you doing this Christmas break?”

“Nothing,” he replied, his eyes holding Lyra’s gaze.

“Good. You will accompany my cousin to the Christmas Ball, and my wedding.”

“I beg your pardon?” Lyra turned to stare at Abraxas, eyebrows raised. “I’m sure Riddle here has much better things to do than to accompany me.”

“On the contrary, Miss Black,” Tom smirked. “I have nowhere to be this Christmas, and why would I miss Abraxas’ wedding? Besides, it would be an honour to accompany you.”

Lyra held his gaze for a moment, only breaking it when Abraxas cleared his throat. Colour rushed to her cheeks as she turned away. 

“Right then,” she stood up, picking up her bag. “I have potions right now, so I should get going.” 

“I’ll walk you,” Tom stood as well, ignoring Abraxas’ pointed look. 

“There’s really no need-” Lyra began to protest before he took her bag, silencing her.

“I insist.”

He offered her his arm, and she took it hesitantly, letting him lead her out of the hall. 

“Your match is later today, is it not?” He asked her after a moment of silence. She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, nodding. “I’m surprised you remember.”

“I’ve made it a point to remember things about you, Miss Black,” he replied, eyes remaining ahead. Lyra glanced at him again. He was handsome. And smart, being the top in his level. But there was something strange about him. Something off. 

Tom was pleased with how things had progressed. After what he made Nott endure, the boy was completely willing to write to his parents, saying that the Malfoy heir was a good match for his sister. His parents, no doubt, lept at the chance, and the Malfoys would not have much hesitation to marry their son off to a well-bred pureblood girl. 

And now that he had held up his part of the bargain, Abraxas would hold up his. The plan they had discussed was quite brilliant. Abraxas would write letters to his aunt, talking about how he thought Tom would be a good match. Tom meanwhile, would woo Lyra. Then they’d just have to get caught in a compromising position during the ball or the wedding by her mother, and their match would be set. 

He had a month and a half to woo her. 

It was more than enough.

  
  



End file.
